


From Ashes

by Nemi_Almasy



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Game, Pre-AC timeline, Reconciliation, Resentment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24580012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemi_Almasy/pseuds/Nemi_Almasy
Summary: After Meteorfall, Tseng feels as though he's lost everything. Aerith is dead, Rufus is presumed dead, and he is left with a burning resentment at a life spent dedicated to the company that helped put the planet in its current state. When Rufus is found alive in the ruins of Midgar, Tseng must reconcile his anger with his commitment to a man he's spent ten years weaving a complex relationship with.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 20
Kudos: 145





	1. Meticulous Bird

Tseng had never been easy with the title of ‘leader’. Every major moment in his life that led him to that role had been defined by following orders until suddenly he was the one giving them. 

His childhood had been spent falling in line at a boarding school and taking orders from his older siblings during summers home. His time in academy was devoted to proving himself to his superiors - proving how effectively he could take direction and how diligently he obeyed their demands. Every second of his career as a Turk had been spent building the evidence that, above all else, Tseng was good at taking orders. 

He approached promotions with ease because there would always be someone above him to lead him. 

Which wasn’t to say he didn’t stand on his own two feet. He could make a snap decision against orders if it was necessary to the mission and he had no qualms with reprimanding his subordinates when necessary, but it was always with the knowledge that ultimately he wasn’t where the buck stopped. 

Then the entire incident with Veld and AVALANCHE happened and on top of experiencing without a doubt the greatest shame of his entire life, Tseng suddenly found himself leader of the Turks, a role he had not expected to take on so suddenly. 

But even leading the Turks didn’t make him the top dog. He slid into the role far easier than he had anticipated, mostly because the severity of his character lent itself to others falling in line behind him. He still had to answer to Heidegger and the President, a fact he found oddly comforting even if he didn’t always find them to be the most suitable leaders. 

When Rufus took over after his father died, that had been the easiest transition Tseng ever experienced. Rufus was a competent leader, easier to follow than his father because his decisions were always based in logic, with a general thought for the overall well being of others - even if how he got there wasn’t always the gentlest method. And though Rufus could wax poetic about ruling with an iron fist, he believed in the importance of earning the respect of his subordinates. Tseng had no trouble following Rufus at all - they had known each other for years, even considered each other friends. He would have followed Rufus into hell.

It was funny how a near death experience had flipped Tseng’s perspective on its head. His life had been dedicated to loyalty above all else. Loyalty to rule and order and leadership. Loyalty to Shinra. But lying with his body splayed open and the woman who had been his longest mission kneeling over him, he realized too late what a wasted life it had been. He used what should have been his last breath to renounce it all and ease his weary conscience as he passed. 

But he never returned to the lifestream. 

Weeks of pain and agony mingled with briefings on the morbid reality of the unfolding situation ensued. Ridding himself of his loyalty to Shinra at death’s door had been easy because he suffered no consequence for it. Once he was alive and well again, it wasn’t realistic to stick to his guns, though in his gut he knew what he told Aerith at the temple had been true. 

Aerith was dead now. The sky was falling. And Rufus needed him.

And then Rufus was dead too and the Turks had barely enough time to process it before the storms came as Meteor broke the atmosphere. Shinra as Tseng knew it had come to an end, the executives scattered to the winds in the wake of Rufus’ death. Only Reeve and the other Turks remained and Tseng unwittingly found himself in the role he had been trying to outrun his entire life. 

They all looked to him with the same question in their eyes. What now?

This was how Tseng found himself leading the rescue efforts in Midgar after the planet miraculously fought back against Meteor. The storm had subsided from gale force to torrential, but it at least meant he and the other Turks could sweep the ruins of the city with what remained of the Shinra helicopter fleet - the majority of the Shinra’s physical assets had been destroyed in the blast that killed Rufus. 

As the last remnants of Shinra’s empire, Reeve and the Turks were the only ones with the power, resources, or authority to lend to a rescue effort. Of course, the citizens of Midgar weren’t waiting around for an official savior either. Community groups had already sprung up in the immediate wake of the disaster to help evacuate people out of the city. The people didn’t cheer for Shinra’s involvement in the process, but they didn’t shun them either. Plates had been partially destroyed by the storms and most of the city was structurally unsound at best, so time was of the essence. Tseng recognized it for what it was: a temporary truce. 

When the dust settled and the people recovered, they would be out for the blood of those who had led the planet to this state. 

Tseng was running on two days straight without sleep, supplementing with materia and caffeine to keep himself awake. He found himself in the ruins of the church in sector 5 where a makeshift medical ward had been set up combining what remained of Shinra’s team of medics and materia experts with citizen volunteers. Where pews had once lined the floor, dozens and dozens of cots and curtains had been set up and nearly every one was full. 

It was difficult for Tseng to be there. He sat in a chair near the former altar, where Aerith’s flowers had been cordoned off at his request, left untouched by the hundreds of feet that had trampled through the church in the last few days. Ten years of his career had been spent looking after Aerith Gainsborough and while Tseng prided himself on compartmentalizing his emotions, it was impossible not to feel some affection for someone he had looked after for so long. Her presence lingered in that church, all around it, but he felt it most heavily staring at those flowers. 

Aerith’s death had been his most spectacular failure. 

“This is Elena reporting in.” A voice crackled over the hand radio in Tseng’s lap and he jerked his gaze away from the flowers. 

“Report,” Tseng answered back. He rubbed his eyes and zapped himself with another haste spell. 

“Directing a group of refugees from the Sector Three slums. How much room is there at the church?”

Tseng sighed. “Excuse me. Doctor…” he addressed the nearest medic. He couldn’t remember any of their names. Half of them looked the same. At any rate, he didn’t wait for an answer. “How many beds are open in the back?”

The medic shook her head. “Maybe five or six? We’re setting more up around the perimeter outside, but we’ve already had to start triaging less severe cases out to Kalm.”

“Route all but the most critically ill straight to Kalm,” Tseng said into the hand radio. 

“Understood, sir.”

“You look like hell,” the medic said when she realized Tseng was done with his conversation. 

If one thing signaled the dramatic power shift Meteor left in its wake it was the fact that not a single person looked at Tseng or the other Turks with even a hint of fear in their eyes. Before everything, grounders had always given Turks a wide berth when they ventured below the plate. Now they fixed Tseng with looks that confirmed what he already knew: as soon as he and the others outlived their usefulness to these people they would be fresh meat. 

“Is that your expert opinion?” Tseng asked. Two days without sleep on top of everything else had crumbled his carefully fashioned facade. 

“My expert opinion is no amount of materia or coffee is gonna keep you awake much longer. Go find an empty bed in the back.”

“No. It’s a waste of a bed.” Tseng’s eyelids drooped. He rubbed his eyes again and stretched in an effort to wake himself. 

“Suit yourself.” The medic shrugged and left to tend to the wounded. 

Tseng had endured longer without sleep, but he knew from his training that he would be nearing a mental breaking point if he didn’t rest soon. He slumped down in the stiff wooden chair and let his eyelids close, clutching the radio against his shoulder so it would wake him if one of his crew called in. 

It felt so good to close his eyes and try not to think...just for a moment. 

“Uh, boss?” 

Reno’s voice crackled over the radio and Tseng’s eyes snapped open. He might have been asleep for a minute or an hour. He blinked and looked around the church, temporarily disoriented. 

“Boss, you there?” 

Tseng sat up. “Report, Reno.”

“I need a team of medics and the best materia we’ve got...ASAP. You should probably come too.”

“What is it?” Tseng asked, standing on shaky legs. 

“Better not to say on open channels. We’re in the tunnels under Sector 1. Just hurry.”

Tseng could speculate. Likely one of the executives had been found half dead after failing to escape during the storm. Anyone could be listening in on their channels and there were still those who would take the opportunity for the killing blow if they could. 

Personally, Tseng didn’t really favor wasting resources to spare the lives of someone like Scarlet or Heidegger, but he rounded up a few of the Shinra medics and a box of supplies and they made their way into the partially collapsed train tunnels leading up between the plates. With the amount of debris, it took them some time to reach Reno’s approximate location, and another few minutes of back and forth with Reno to figure out precisely where he was. 

They found him kneeling in front of a body on one of the former train platforms. Tseng couldn’t see the face, but he could see the tattered and blood-stained trench coat, and he knew immediately that it was Rufus Shinra. 

He was the first to Reno’s side.

“Found him just down that way,” Reno waved a hand vaguely to the east. “He’s breathing but he’s not conscious. Real dehydrated.” Reno rarely spoke in such a serious tone. 

Tseng observed Rufus with a knitted brow. His clothes were torn, revealing bloody skin and wounds beginning to show signs of infection beneath. One eye was bruised and swollen shut, the rest of his face so scraped and bruised that it was nearly unrecognizable. Reno carefully placed his hands on Rufus’ side and lifted him just enough to show Tseng his back. 

“This is the worst of it,” he said. 

The heat of the explosion had burned him badly, melting some of his clothing against the skin in a grotesque fashion. 

It would be a kindness to let him die, but Rufus would have hated him for having such a pitying thought. Tseng couldn’t stop staring at the injuries that covered his body. He felt a bitter, angry heat welling in his chest. It had been better to think Rufus was dead and that Shinra might finally collapse for good, that Tseng might finally free himself of his binds.

He wanted Rufus to die. 

Shamefully, he turned his gaze away. 

“Stabilize him,” he said to the medics. “Reno, set up space in the office in Kalm for a medical bed and whatever supplies the medics need.

“Sure thing, boss.”

It felt wasteful to reroute already dwindling emergency supplies to try and save the life of a man half dead who had helped create some of this mess. Perhaps it wasn’t totally fair: Rufus hadn’t done nearly the amount of damage his father had - rather, he had made a number of decisions that probably saved lives, including the one that almost ended his. But Rufus had given the order that led Tseng to the Temple. Whether Tseng would acknowledge it or not, resentment had been festering inside of him ever since. 

“Are you going to go with him?” Reno asked. “Someone needs to. Everybody on the planet will want him dead if they know he’s alive.”

Reno’s words were more shame inducing than Tseng’s own thoughts. They were still on the job. Reno’s suggestion was one of a thoughtful and effective Turk. It was crucial to keep Rufus’ survival quiet. Who better to stay by Rufus’ side than his most loyal Turk? 

“Yes. I’ll go with him.”

They let the medics move in and do what work they could applying field dressings and restorative materia to mitigate some of the most immediate issues. Tseng watched as they lifted Rufus’ limp body onto a stretcher and carried him back down the tunnel. He walked alongside them, staring at Rufus’ swollen face, at scraps of fabric stuck to clotting blood. How had he survived as long as he did?

Out of the tunnels, Rufus was loaded into a waiting helicopter piloted by Rude. Tseng took a spot in the co-pilot’s chair, mostly to avoid having to look at Rufus’ dying form. He greeted Rude with a curt nod and Rude responded in kind with an affirmative grunt. He craned his neck to see who the priority was and raised his eyebrows, turning back to Tseng with a frown.  
“Is he alive?”  
“Barely.”

Rude nodded and said nothing more on the matter. The short flight to Kalm was spent in silence except for the medics still working to stabilize Rufus. They asked Tseng a few questions: what did the blood stores in Kalm look like, could any IV bags be spared, would they have access to heart monitors and pulse oximeters? Tseng knew the answers because he was in charge of everything now. The truth was, they didn’t have equipment to spare, and there were plenty of people who deserved the limited blood supply more than Rufus. But they would find a way to get whatever the medics needed because, as long as he still breathed, Rufus Shinra was still the most powerful man on the planet on his name alone. 

Tseng considered briefly that the man responsible for keeping Rufus alive might technically be more powerful, but he didn’t want to dwell on that responsibility.

Whether Tseng was pleased to admit it or not, there was still that nagging sense of loyalty.

The helicopter landed on the northern edge of Kalm and Tseng followed the medics to an office building that had been converted into the new unofficial Shinra headquarters. Rude took the helicopter and returned to assist with the rescue efforts in Midgar at Tseng’s insistence. No need to waste two Turks on the task of protecting the president. 

Did Tseng really want to risk his life for Rufus now? After all that had happened?

The medics set up a makeshift hospital room in one of the offices on the first floor and Tseng waited outside, taking a seat in one of the cushioned chairs in the lobby. He was so tired, more tired than he was sure he had ever been. It had only been a few weeks since his own recovery and his body still ached when he pushed himself too far. He pressed his hand against his chest through the fabric of his shirt, feeling the knot of flesh beneath, where the masamune had left a long and lasting scar: a permanent reminder of his folly. He wished Shinra had just let him die. It was Elena and Reeve who had saved his life. He should have been grateful, but he wasn’t. All that had been waiting for him after was chaos.

He kept nodding off waiting for the medics to finish their work. Part of him hoped they would step out of the office and declare nothing more could be done, but every time the door opened, it was only for one of them to request more supplies. At some point Tseng would have to cut them off - they could reasonably only waste so many resources on one man.

One of the medics placed a hand on his shoulder and he jerked his head up, blinking sleep from his eyes.

“Sorry, sir. The President has been stabilized, but he’s in bad shape. I can commit one of my men to check in on him every hour. We’ve got an IV drip to help with hydration and nutrition. He’ll have to stay on his side and keep pressure off the burn wounds on his back and…” He continued with a laundry list of problems they had run into and Tseng listened with a foggy brain. In the end, all that mattered was that Rufus was just barely alive and would need constant supervision in the next few days if he were going to pull through.

“You understand the importance of discretion,” Tseng said. He did not particularly feel like threatening the life of a valuable health care worker, but the implication needed to exist. No one could know that Rufus was alive.

“Of course, sir.”

The medics left him - there were too many other injured people to tend to and they couldn’t waste time with Rufus now that he was stable. Once they were gone, Tseng moved quietly into the office and stood with his back against the door staring at Rufus. He had been provided an actual hospital bed, which were harder than ever to come by at the moment, and he lay on his side completely unresponsive to the world around him, body wrapped in bandaging already tinged pink in places. 

Tseng crossed the room and stood by the edge of the bed, observing Rufus’ face, still so swollen it hardly looked like him. Tseng thought he might know Rufus’ face better than his own for all the time they had spent working with one another. There was an entire decade of complicated history between them, but it had been poisoned by the last few months, maybe irreparably so. His relationship with Rufus was constantly evolving. There were times when he considered Rufus as close a friend as he had ever had and other times where it was clear that, above all else, Tseng was simply another pawn in Rufus’ game. The power dynamic had been different when Tseng had been in charge of monitoring Rufus’ house arrest, but no less turmoiled. He felt far too many ways about Rufus to properly articulate.

The thought occurred to Tseng as he watched Rufus in his comatose state that it would be incredibly simple for him to end it all right then and there. The planet was undoubtedly better off without the Shinra Electric Power Company - wasn’t it in turn better off without the last living member of the Shinra family? Rufus was nothing if not proud. Tseng could justify it as a kindness to keep Rufus from whatever awaited him on the other side of all of these injuries. Without realizing what he was doing, his hand was around Rufus’ throat, thumb pressed lightly against his Adam’s apple.

Tseng could count on two hands the number of times he had touched Rufus. The majority of those times had been to pull him out of harm’s way; only once had it been a different touch. Until now.

He knew exactly how much pressure to apply to crush a windpipe. He had done it countless times on Shinra’s orders. Rufus was in such bad shape that no one would question if he died now. The medics wouldn’t waste time or resources assessing the cause of death. Standing there with his hand clenched around Rufus’ neck, Tseng was suddenly the most powerful man on the planet. All it would take was just a bit more pressure and he would be gone…for good this time.

He withdrew his hand and walked over to the couch against the wall by the door. These were the thoughts of a sleep-deprived man at the end of his wits. He needed to rest. He wouldn’t feel this terrible burning resentment quite so intensely once he had slept and allowed his mind to recover.

He lay down on the couch, turning his back to Rufus because looking at him lying helpless in that bed made him feel too many emotions all at once. This time when he closed his eyes, he was finally able to sleep - a blissful, dreamless slumber.


	2. Unwavering

“Can he hear us in there?”

“The medics said sometimes comatose patients can.”

“Man. He’s in _rough_ shape, huh?”

“We need to consider the possibility that he won’t wake up.”

“Pretty morbid.”

Rufus Shinra felt like he was in a fog. He could hear the familiar voices around him, but they sounded distant and oddly foreign - he could recognize that he knew who was speaking, but he couldn’t recall the names. In fact he couldn’t recall much except a blinding explosion of white and then an immense amount of pain.

The pain was still there, gnawing into every inch of his body, most prominent in a burning ache all down the length of his back. Where the fuck was he?

_Open your fucking eyes, Rufus._

Everything felt like too much of a struggle. He tried to open his eyes, felt the faintest flutter of his eyelashes, but anything more was an immense effort. A similar attempt to open his mouth and speak found a throat dryer than a desert and lips that seemed to be sealed shut. His brain raged against this even as he recognized how weak he felt. He wasn’t going to lay there - wherever _there_ was - listening to people discuss him like he was already dead. With a frankly titanic effort, he opened one eye - the other seemed to be sealed shut - and blinked rapidly until his vision began to come into focus.

“Shit!” A flash of red hair. “He’s moving!”

Then it was a familiar face hovering above his own, a curtain of black hair falling against a shoulder, a severe frown.

“Mr. President?”

Rufus managed to open his mouth next, just barely, but when he tried to speak the friction of his dry vocal cords made his throat ache. That was all he could manage. Moving any of his limbs was beyond his capability in that moment.

“Get the medics.” It was Tseng who spoke, glancing away from Rufus long enough to bark the order at Reno.

“Uh, yeah, of course.” The rush of feet on carpet as Reno disappeared.

“Don’t move.” Tseng only gave Rufus orders when the situation was deadly serious, and as loathe as Rufus was to follow any direction out of a lingering sense of stubbornness, he knew to listen when Tseng took that tone of voice. Not that he could really move anyway. There was a firm hand on his shoulder holding him steady.

“Where-” Rufus croaked.

“Don’t speak either,” Tseng snapped.

Fine. It hurt too much anyway.

Tseng’s hand was gone from Rufus’ shoulder as the medics arrived and then it was too much noise, lights being flashed in his eyes, hands all over his body. It hurt to be touched and moved and his senses were too easily overwhelmed in this state. The voices seemed to all mingle together and his eye fluttered shut in an effort to drown it out. Then, darkness again.

* * *

The next time Rufus awoke, he felt less dazed, but his body ached just as badly as before, if not worse. He managed to open both eyes that time, pleased to find the room he was in dimly lit by the soft glow of a lamp in the corner, no more harsh lights. The only sound was the steady beeping of the monitors behind him. He lay on his side, his body stiff and painful and, though he would have liked to sit up more fully, just the flexing of his body as he took in his surroundings caused such an excruciating pain in his back that he knew there would be no lying against it.

“You should refrain from moving too much, sir,” Tseng’s voice sounded from behind him. There was the rustle of movement and then Tseng was standing in front of him. “How would you rate your pain?”

Rufus let him know what he thought of such a stupid question with just one look. Tseng’s perpetual frown deepened.

“If you don’t rate how you feel right now, there will be no way to monitor progress.”

“Where am I?” Rufus finally spoke, his throat hoarse, but less dry than before.

“An office building in Kalm,” Tseng replied.

“And Meteor-”

“There will be plenty of time to brief you on the state of things when you’re in better shape. The situation is…complicated and evolving.”

It was the typically cryptic response of a Turk.

“I want to know now.”

Tseng pursed his lips. “You’re in no state to have a drawn out conversation about it.”

Rufus looked up at him, _really_ looked at him for the first time. Even on a bad day, Tseng was always what Rufus would privately describe as radiant to look at - always well-composed, the sides of his hair pinned back in a neat knot while the rest draped down his back in a silky curtain of black, skin smooth despite that constant crease of his brow. But now, for the first time possibly ever, he looked haggard. Deep circles darkened the skin beneath his eyes, strands of hair flying away at all angles, his suit heavily crumpled.

“You look like shit,” Rufus told him.

Tseng sighed and closed his eyes. “Shall I fetch you a mirror, sir?”

This made Rufus laugh, which hurt immensely. His laughter quickly turned to a grimace and he clutched the side of the bed. Tseng placed his hand on Rufus’ shoulder to steady him.

“When was the last time you slept?” Rufus asked.

Tseng let go of him and sat down in a chair next to the bed. “I sleep in short bursts on the couch over there.” He nodded to the far wall. “I couldn’t say how much sleep I’ve gotten in the last week.”

“You should go home and-”

“There is no home to go to.” He held Rufus’ gaze with a familiar intensity. “How much do you remember?”

“The blast.” Rufus chided himself for so easily forgetting, but the pain was so immense that he desperately _wanted_ to forget. “Of course. Is headquarters completely destroyed?”

“The top half,” Tseng confirmed. “The rest is too structurally unstable to search at the moment. Not that we can really justify wasting the resources on something like that.” Tseng paused and pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes at Rufus and folding his arms across his chest. “This was just a ploy to get me to talk about the situation.”

Rufus smirked. He did anticipate Tseng would have caught on sooner after all the time they had known each other, but he would give him a pass for being so tired. “Worth a try.”

“You should continue to rest.”

“Take your own advice,” Rufus bit back.

“I don’t have the luxury of resting at the moment.”

“So talk to me,” Rufus reached out to him, but moving at all hurt, so he let his hand fall against the bed.

He wasn’t sure which Tseng he was talking to at the moment. A decade spent together in all manner of scenarios meant they had seen each other in less than professional circumstances. Sometimes it was obvious who Rufus was speaking with: the curt professionalism of Tseng the Turk versus the reserved and sometimes awkward demeanor of _his_ Tseng. He could switch those personalities on and off so quickly it was disconcerting. But his fatigue was making it difficult to tell just which personality he had on at the moment.

“With all due respect, sir-”

“It really isn’t necessary when it’s just the two of us, is it?” Rufus interrupted.

“Sir,” Tseng continued. So there it was. He was speaking to Tseng the Turk. “You’re not my therapist.”

“No, but you could use one, don’t you agree?”

The look Tseng fixed him with was tinged with something Rufus didn’t recognize, something he had never seen in Tseng’s eyes before, but he couldn’t quite place what it was. Tseng should have been used to Rufus crossing the line like that - it was something he had done more times than he could possibly count. He seemed genuinely angry about it now.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll have the medics bring some pain medicine.” He stood up with finality and crossed the room to the couch.

Rufus bristled, but he was in too much pain to pick a fight. Even though all he had done was sleep, he closed his eyes and fell asleep again after a few minutes of quiet agony, stewing over Tseng’s odd behavior and his frustration that he still hadn’t been filled in on the situation.

* * *

Tseng was the most constant presence in Rufus’ sick room over the next several weeks. He came and went for a few hours at a time to deal with what was apparently a whole host of problems, but he always returned to check in on him. Reno, Rude, and Elena all came by in turns to express their relief that Rufus had survived the explosion. Reeve also dropped in at one point, but no one else came. Tseng would not speak about what was happening outside of that room no matter how much Rufus pried him on the matter, but Rufus had figured out within the first few days that - whatever had happened - they were likely all that was left of Shinra.

It was Tseng who tended to his bandages, who lightly pressed a cool rag against Rufus’ body to clean him every few days, who helped him sit up for the first time, who had a glass of water ready whenever Rufus needed it, and who helped feed him when he could barely lift his head. And he did so with the same frown he always wore, betraying no hint of how he really felt about any of it. Rufus should have thanked him for it, but he didn’t.

Tseng had never been particularly loquacious even in their closest moments, but he said less than usual in the days since Rufus had awoken. Not that the silence was necessarily uncomfortable. Rufus had always been able to enjoy Tseng’s company without a word between them. He certainly wouldn’t have wanted anyone else there looking after him.

“Why are they still loyal to me?” Rufus asked as Tseng sat on the couch typing a rapid message to someone, his eyelids heavy. Now that Rufus could sit up properly - after two weeks of intensive materia therapy - he enjoyed the view of Tseng’s seemingly perpetual station on the couch, even if he did still look a mess.

Tseng’s eyes flitted to Rufus and back to his phone. “What do you mean?”

“The others. And you. Not that you’ll tell me, but it seems like the planet has gone to hell out there. Why bother with me?”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say,” Tseng said without looking up from his phone.

“You can’t formulate an answer for yourself as to why you’ve spent the last two weeks acting as my nurse?” Rufus huffed. Tseng could be so intentionally fucking obtuse sometimes and it drove him up the wall. There was no getting anything out of him without pulling it out tooth and nail. He knew it irritated Rufus too.

“Have I not been abundantly clear about my loyalty to Shinra?” Tseng asked.

“Yes, but why stay loyal when there’s nothing left of Shinra except a sickly man lying in a hospital bed?” Rufus growled.

Tseng seemed to consider his next words carefully. “It’s the only sense of order left,” he said with a shrug.

The same non-answer he loved to give to half of Rufus’ questions. Rufus huffed and reached for his water, sipping it moodily and glaring a hole through Tseng. Nothing annoyed him quite as much as not understanding a problem and since Tseng wouldn’t give him the full picture of what was happening outside of that room, he was left irritable and out of the loop.

“Tell me what the hell happened, Tseng,” Rufus demanded. Tseng chewed on his tongue and kept his focus on his phone. “Would you look at me when I’m talking to you?”

His eyes shot up. “You can’t change any of it, so why does it matter if you find out now or in another few weeks when you’re not so weak?”

“If you don’t tell me, I’m getting out of this bed and I’ll go look myself.”

“You won’t do that,” Tseng scoffed. And Rufus knew it was his Tseng that was speaking to him in that moment.

“I’m hurt that you don’t know me better than that, Tseng,” Rufus jibed, already swinging his legs around the side of the bed with a great amount of difficulty. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Tseng stood up, hovering by the couch. “Lay back down.”

“Make me.” Rufus placed a foot on the ground, his leg shaking with the effort. When he tried to stand fully, he found he had vastly overestimated his ability to walk even the short distance to the door. His knees buckled, but Tseng was at his side before he could hit the ground, catching him and holding him up with his arms gently tucked under his back.

“That was foolish,” he said softly. He lifted Rufus back into bed and drew the sheets over his legs. “Don’t do it again.” Rufus opened his mouth to protest and Tseng shook his head. “Meteor is gone. The planet fought back and destroyed it. But it still brought storms that destroyed the city almost entirely. We’ve spent the last three weeks helping the people evacuate because none of the plates are structurally sound and we’ve had the most resources of anyone in this fight: your resources. No one knows you’re alive besides the four of us and Reeve because if the people out there knew about it, they would find you and they would kill you. Do you understand the severity of the situation now, Rufus?”

He understood just fine. If anything, it made him question the Turks’ continued loyalty even more. There was nothing left and he was powerless to stop them from doing whatever they pleased with his money and his name. Why not leave him to rot? He was too proud to ever admit aloud, even to Tseng, how miserable the situation made him feel. Nothing was worse than being completely helpless, completely reliant on the trust and loyalty of someone else to survive. Maybe he questioned their loyalty now because he was terrified of what would happen if they decided to abandon him.

“You could have told me that two weeks ago,” Rufus replied.

Tseng sat down in the chair next to the bed and returned his attention to his phone. “Well now you know.”

Several minutes passed in silence. Rufus watched Tseng as his fingers moved rapidly across his phone screen, his brow furrowing in response to whatever he was drafting. It seemed to Rufus that Tseng had taken up the role of leader in his stead. There was no questioning his capability to do so, but it worried Rufus how little he seemed to sleep, and how terribly worn down he looked every day. He wanted to offer up the advice that he needn’t bear the burden on his own, but if he was being completely honest with himself, he was feeling far too weak to offer the help Tseng needed. What he wanted more than anything was an assurance that he would not be left to the wolves when all was said and done, even though he knew he deserved it for all his family had wrought.

“Tseng?” Rufus asked.

“Hm?” Tseng didn’t look away from his phone.

“Tseng,” Rufus repeated, reaching a hand desperately toward him.

Tseng looked up and stared at his outstretched hand. Time seemed to come to a halt between them until Rufus almost withdrew his hand in foolish shame, but then Tseng’s hand curled around his, smooth leather against the palm of his skin. “What do you need?” Tseng asked.

“Please,” said Rufus, and it was the most vulnerable he had allowed himself to be in front of him in a long time. “Promise me you won’t leave.” He squeezed Tseng’s hand tightly in his own.

Tseng’s gaze was focused squarely on their hands. Almost as soon as Rufus had asked it of him, he wished he could take it back, but stubbornness was his worst trait and he had rarely walked back anything he had ever said in his entire life. So he held on tightly to Tseng’s hand and waited for an answer.

“Tseng squeezed Rufus’ hand in return, but it was Tseng the Turk who answered him.

“I am loyal to Shinra as long as I still breathe.”

It was not the answer Rufus wanted. But it would have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! More soon!


	3. Cause and Effect

A month and a half after Reno had pulled Rufus Shinra from the wreckage of the Midgar train tunnels, Tseng found himself piloting a helicopter with Rufus by his side; Reno, Rude, and Elena behind them as they flew over the mountains just east of Kalm. Weeks and weeks of lingering rain following the storms brought down by Meteor had finally given way to vibrant sun that colored the grassy hills a more vibrant shade of green than Tseng had ever seen.

“The lodge is just a bit further north,” Rufus said. “I have no clue what kind of shape it’s in.”

As of a week earlier, he was finally able to walk and tend to himself, most of his injuries healed now. Tseng had barely left his side in the last month except to make the occasional trip back to the medical base to convene with Reeve and the other Turks. It was hard for him to admit even to himself just how he felt about the whole situation. He was mostly just overwhelmingly tired.

The decision had been made to let Reeve take over evacuation duties with the help of AVALANCHE, who had returned from the Northern crater several weeks earlier and gotten straight to assisting in the relief effort. Reeve had a good relationship with the group, and the group in turn had a good relationship with the people of Midgar, or at least the grounders. Better for Shinra to bow out gracefully and disappear. Tseng knew if they stuck around much longer, the already bitter sentiment in the air could turn violent. It would be even worse if they found out about Rufus.

Rufus had a solution, as he always seemed to. His family owned an old lodge in the eastern mountains that had been a summer home when he was a child. It hadn’t been touched in years, but few people knew about it. It would be a safe place to lay low and figure out their next move. Whatever Rufus planned beyond his recovery, he had told none of them, but Tseng was going to have a few words for him if he ever brought up trying to restore Shinra to its former glory.

So far, thankfully, the only mention he had made toward the future was funding an effort to help with the sickness that was afflicting a huge chunk of those who had survived Meteorfall. Some of them caught it and died within days of the initial incident, others were just now developing it, and no one knew what it was.

Tseng felt conflicted, even about funding such an ostensibly altruistic project. Shinra had funded plenty of science projects in the past meant to make life better, but the worst of those projects had led the planet to the state it was in. It was probably better for Shinra to stay out of things entirely.

The lodge came into view as the helicopter rounded a corner: a series of buildings connected by wooden bridges set to a backdrop of a glistening waterfall running into a stream that ran around and beneath the raised buildings. Tseng landed the chopper in a field just south of the lodge and the other Turks climbed out while he waited for Rufus, offering a hand to help him down. He was capable of walking on his own, but he was still weak after all he had been through and weeks of lying in a hospital bed.

Rufus took his hand and allowed Tseng to help him down into the grass before quickly letting go of him and taking the lead as they walked toward the house. Tseng kept pace with him easily enough, hands behind his back, observing the slight limp to Rufus’ gait as he moved.

Nearly two months of taking care of Rufus had taken its toll on Tseng, who had never really fully recovered from what happened at the Temple of the Ancients. He was suffering both physically and mentally, but until they were set up in the lodge, he wouldn’t really be able to relax. And even then, Rufus was effectively their charge now. He had begged Tseng not to leave him several weeks earlier and Tseng could see the fear in his eyes. It hadn’t felt like he was asking out of any great love for Tseng or the other Turks - it felt like he was asking because he was afraid of what would happen if he were left alone.

Considering Tseng had nothing and no one outside of his now virtually defunct career, what else could he say but ‘yes’?

It left him feeling even more resentful, but he wouldn’t let it show in front of Rufus.

His feelings on the entire matter were so conflicted that he felt like he was being torn in two. Rufus had long been in his only true friend, and though their dynamic could shift at the drop of a hat, after ten years it was impossible for Tseng not to care for him. That loyalty - not as a Turk, but on a personal level - was the only reason he had been able to tend to Rufus for the last month and a half without leaving in a fit of rage. It was an eternal struggle between helping a man he cared for very deeply, and wanting to escape the man and the company that had caused so much of his suffering.

It was better to compartmentalize his feelings and move on.

When the group stepped inside the main entrance of the lodge they were greeted to the smell of mildew, dust coating most of the surfaces, though the furniture had at least been covered in plastic. The decorations were more than a decade out of date: an indication of how long it had been since any member of the Shinra family had visited. Tseng walked around the central room, glancing behind the couch and chairs where he found mouse droppings. He wrinkled his nose and turned to Rufus.

“We’ll need to have this place cleaned and exterminators brought in.”

“Of course,” Rufus walked over to the window and looked out at the waterfall.

“Man, this place reeks,” Reno held his nose. Rude grunted in agreement and Elena did her best to hide her distaste.

Rufus had asked Tseng why they were still loyal to him because he didn’t understand that anyone who got close enough to him was trapped in the same web. People of their rank were asked to commit their entire lives to Shinra and now that Shinra was nothing more than a name, they had no other lives to return to.

“There’s a kitchen off of this room, and a den in the back,” Rufus explained. “The bridges connect to seven other rooms and a large gymnasium. We could easily convert it into space for all of us.” He turned around to face the Turks.

“Sounds great, boss,” Reno said. Tseng knew Reno well enough to know he could be content just about anywhere, which was the only reason he was being remotely positive about the situation.

Rufus sighed and held his hands out. “I don’t want you all to stay here out of a sense of obligation to Shinra,” he said. “Shinra is gone. It died with Midgar. And as far as everyone out there knows, I’m dead too. So if you’re going to stay, do so because you want to and not because you think you have to. I can still afford to pay you and keep a roof over our heads, and I do want your help moving forward. But not if you don’t want to stick around.”

He looked pointedly at Tseng as he said this. Tseng had to look away and temper his reaction. There was an anger welling deep within him. Where did Rufus get off begging him not to leave and then telling him he had every right to go if he wanted to? A case of saying one thing, but meaning another - and Tseng knew exactly which of Rufus’ words had been more sincere.

Reno and Rude looked at each other and then at Elena.

“I mean…where else are we gonna go?” Reno asked.

That was the point. They had nowhere else. They had no one else. And anyone outside that lodge who knew they had ties to Shinra would shun them.

“Well then stay,” Rufus said. “But know you can leave whenever you want. Your contracts are void now. I’m not your keeper.”

“If that’s all,” Tseng interrupted. “We should get you back to the office so we can have someone brought in to deal with this mess. We don’t want to risk them seeing you.”

“Right,” Rufus nodded.

“Reno,” Tseng stopped in the doorway. “Scout the area for any weak points. Rude, stay here and keep an eye on the people who come to clean up. Make sure they don’t get too curious about anything. Elena, I want you to search the entire lodge for any evidence that Shinra owns this building and get rid of it.”

“Yes, sir.” They all responded.

“You have them so well trained, Tseng,” Rufus laughed. Tseng didn’t. He followed Rufus out to the helicopter in silence.

Several minutes passed after they lifted off before Rufus spoke again.

“Why are you being like this?” He demanded.

“Like what?”

He made an irritated sound in the back of his throat and glared out the window. “We used to be able to talk about things. I mean, it’s always been a chore to get you started on a conversation, but before you would at least open up to me in private. You’ve barely said anything to me in the last month that wasn’t to do with my health or the company.”

Tseng clenched his jaw. “I understand you’ve been through a lot. But if you bothered to care about anyone besides yourself for even a second then you might understand I’m under quite a bit of stress at the moment.” He had been cracking for weeks, but now he was completely coming apart.

“It’s obvious you’re stressed,” Rufus said in a surprisingly soft tone. “Forgive me for not asking about it, but you don’t seem to want to talk about anything so-”

“What is there to talk about, Rufus? Really? I’m here. I don’t know what more you want from me.”

Before Rufus could answer him, Tseng’s chest spasmed. It was suddenly very difficult to catch his breath. He clutched at the steering control, his fingers tightening reflexively as he gasped desperately for air, but it was a rattling sound that made his chest constrict even more. Rufus stared at him, eyes wide.

“Tseng? What’s happening?”

It felt like his insides were splitting open, his heartbeat pulsing in his ears. He shook his head. “The controls-” he managed to gasp. Then he slumped forward onto the control panel as his vision went black.

* * *

As soon as Tseng stepped foot inside the temple, he knew they were making a mistake. It was an immediate sensation that he felt down into his very core. They didn’t belong on such hallowed ground, not with the plans they were making. The ancients built this place as a testament to their harmony with the planet and Shinra had sent the Turks to use it to find more mako to fuel their reactors and suck the life out of the planet. He had never sympathized with the eco-terrorists until that point.

Of course, that wasn’t truly the primary reason they were there, but he knew Rufus hoped to glean something more than just what was happening with Sephiroth.

Regardless, Tseng was a professional and there was a job to do.

The murals had been painted with an intricate hand, but neither Tseng nor Elena could make heads or tails of the meaning the pictures were trying to display. They took detailed photos when it was too much for them to piece apart - Elena went on ahead back toward the entrance where the reception might be better to transmit the photos to Rufus.

Tseng stayed behind.

He didn’t see Sephiroth until he was baring down on him with that glimmering steel sword in his hand and though Tseng had won his fair share of dirty fights, he didn’t even have time to respond to the sudden menacing presence before the sword was tearing through his skin, rending him open, blood and muscle exposed as he fell against the hard stone floor.

What power possessed him that he made it all the way out the door, he couldn’t have said, but it left him all at once and he slumped against the doorway at the end of a trail of blood, clutching feebly at his chest, his insides splayed open. There was nothing but pain and agony - the worst he had ever known.

He remembered how much it hurt. And he remembered Aerith’s face. Her hands clutching his, staining her pale skin with his blood.

He was wrong. He was wrong about everything. Shinra had been his biggest mistake. A waste of his life, now cut mercilessly short.

When he closed his eyes, he felt ready for death.

* * *

Tseng awoke to immediate discomfort. It felt almost as bad as when he had awoken from the attack at the temple, and he clutched at his chest instinctively to stem bleeding that wasn’t there.

“Tseng. _Tseng!_ ” Soft hands moved around his own to stop him from beating at his chest and he found Rufus at his side.

He looked around and found himself lying in a bed in one of the offices back in Kalm. He tried to sit up, but Rufus pressed an insistent hand against his shoulder and pushed him back down.

“You had some sort of breakdown,” Rufus said. “I had one of the medics come in and take a look at you.”

Tseng’s heart dropped into his stomach. “The helicopter could have-”

“Good thing I’m a proficient pilot.” Rufus took a seat next to the bed and watched him with an inscrutable expression. “You’ve overworked yourself for weeks. Well,” he laughed and rolled his eyes. “Years, if we’re being honest with each other. You need to rest.”

“I can rest when the lodge is secured and-”

“Reno is handling it,” Rufus interrupted. “Surely you can trust him?”

Yes, for better or worse, Tseng did trust Reno to get a job done. He could be an infuriating loudmouth, but he was good at what he did.

There was no denying Tseng needed the rest. His nerves were frayed and he hadn’t slept well in weeks. If he was averaging three hours a night he would have been surprised. He laid his head back against the pillow and stared at the ceiling to avoid looking at Rufus.

After a moment of silence, Rufus shuffled beside him and then his fingers brushed delicately against the scar on Tseng’s chest. It was horrible to look at: a gnarled knot of raised flesh that ran from his left nipple down to his right hip. Tseng’s skin jumped and he turned his back to Rufus.

“Don’t,” he said.

He heard Rufus sigh and take a seat. “I hadn’t seen it until now. I knew it was bad, but…”

Tseng didn’t want to hear Rufus lament about the state of his body. He harbored such a horrendous resentment toward Rufus for all of it, even though he knew most of the blame really lay with his father. It was easier to feel angry with the man actively holding his life hostage, the one who had ultimately given the order for him to go to the temple in the first place - as though it were somehow Rufus’ fault that Sephiroth showed up and tore Tseng in half.

“I understand that you don’t want to talk about it,” Rufus said. “I am sorry for the part I played in it. I know it doesn’t mean much.”

Tseng wanted him to leave. He couldn’t bear to be around him anymore. Nothing he ever did would truly be enough for Rufus - it was something he should have realized sooner. But rather than say any of this, he kept his back to him and said nothing.

“I’ll let you rest.” Rufus squeezed Tseng’s shoulder and he shrugged it away wordlessly.

How could he simultaneously love and hate someone so much? It made him ache to think about it at all. Crossing a professional boundary with Rufus was the biggest mistake Tseng had ever made in his life and now he was paying for it every waking hour of every day.

The most miserable thought of all was that if he hadn’t crossed that line, if he and Rufus were never friends, he wouldn’t have any friends at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tseng get therapy challenge.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Absence

Tseng refused to listen to doctors’ orders and, only a day after his collapse while manning a helicopter, he was back at Rufus’ side refusing to acknowledge the unpleasant tension between the two of them. Rufus didn’t know what to do or say, mostly because Tseng wasn’t talking to him except as it pertained to plans with the lodge.

They had spent most of the last few days in the same room saying absolutely nothing to each other, and it was no longer the comfortable silence he was used to with Tseng.

When they moved into the lodge, Tseng stayed with Rufus in the main cabin while the others went about setting up their own personal space in the adjacent cabins. The cleaning crew had done an excellent job of making the lodge livable again, everything immaculately clean and a few pieces of furniture reupholstered. Rufus sat by the window looking out at the waterfall and contemplating this new reality.

In truth he did have plans for Shinra, but they largely entailed donating his money to the right causes for the time being. After all that the Shinra family had done to the planet and the people that inhabited it, he owed them more than he could ever repay in his lifetime. But he had to start somewhere.

Not that he expected anyone outside of Shinra to understand, but even when he had been running things his goals had been to make the planet a better place. He was just misguided. It would take time for him to reconcile with himself and that was made harder by the fact that he was currently trying to reconcile with Tseng.

“So is that it then?” Rufus broke the silence after what felt like hours. “You just aren’t going to speak to me anymore?”

“I’ve spoken to you multiple times today,” Tseng replied.

Rufus shot him a furious look. “You know exactly what I mean, Tseng.”

Tseng pocketed his phone and folded his hands in his lap. “What would you like me to say?”

“Why are you behaving like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like a child!” Rufus cried. “You won’t talk to me, so how the fuck can I possibly know what’s wrong? I know you’ve spent your entire life learning to bottle up your emotions so you could do your job, but Shiva’s tits, Tseng. It’s _me_. You used to tell me things. What happened?”

Tseng’s brow furrowed in irritation. “Do you want to know why I’m upset, or do you want me to move past it so we can talk about your problems?”

“When have I even once indicated that?” Rufus balked. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What is _wrong_ with me?” Tseng rose to his feet. “You come in here and give your stupid speech to us about the freedom of choice, but it’s all a lot of posturing isn’t it, Rufus? You can’t say I can leave after you begged me to stay.”

Rufus sighed. “So that’s the problem. You want to leave and you feel like you can’t.” He shook his head. “So then fucking leave, Tseng.” It was the last thing Rufus wanted, but if Tseng didn’t want to be there, he didn’t want to be responsible for his captivity.

Tseng flexed his fingers. “It’s obviously not that simple, is it?”

“And why not? You don’t owe me anything. If either one of us owes the other, I owe you. I’m not forcing you to stay here.”

“Then why did you beg me not to leave you?” Tseng demanded.

Rufus scoffed. “You shouldn’t even have to ask the question. Who the fuck are you anymore? I didn’t ask you to stay as your fucking employer, Tseng, I asked you to stay because you’re the only friend I have left and certainly the only person I really trust. Forgive me for having a moment of weakness while I was suffering the worst pain of my life. I guess the past decade doesn’t mean as much to you as it does to me.”

This lit a visible fuse in Tseng. “Excuse me?” His eyes went wide with rage. “All I’ve done for the last decade is live my life for you. Gods, you’re so _unbearable_ to be around sometimes, Rufus!”

“So if I’m so unbearable then just go! I don’t want you around if you don’t want to be here! If you seem to hate me so much then why are you so insistent on sticking around?”

“Because I love you!” He yelled.

A pregnant silence filled the air. Rufus felt as though he had been slapped.

Tseng shook his head and refused to meet Rufus’ gaze. “I can’t stand to look at you some days,” he said. “I’m so angry about everything that happened. I’m angry about the temple and Aerith’s death.” If Rufus didn’t know better, he would have thought he saw tears welling in Tseng’s eyes. “I’m suffering so much for you, Rufus. I didn’t even have time to grieve you before we found you alive and do you know what the worst part is?”

“What?” Rufus asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“When we found you, my first thought was that I wished you were dead.” The words were like a knife through Rufus’ heart, but he said nothing. “I just wanted to be free of this.”

“Free of me?”

Tseng finally looked up at him, his eyes glistening. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life caring for someone who doesn’t really care for me.”

Rufus opened and closed his mouth several times, but nothing came out. He couldn’t formulate the appropriate response to this sudden declaration. What he should have said was that of course he cared for Tseng. There was no one in his life that he cared for more. Why the fuck had Tseng waited until now, when the world had gone to hell, to express his resentment over this? Was Rufus supposed to magically realize that the most stoic man on the planet actually loved him?

But he took too long to say anything, too blindsided by the conversation.

“I see,” Tseng said. He turned his back to Rufus and walked out the door.

“Tseng!” Rufus called.

But it was too late.

* * *

For most people, there were worse things in life than being under house arrest in a sprawling beach villa with your own private beach, but Rufus Shinra was not most people. His father had doled out exactly the appropriate punishment for him in that he knew nothing got under Rufus’ skin like not being able to get results. And it was very difficult to get results with a monitoring bracelet wrapped around his ankle, stuck inside that house for what would likely be years.

The upside was, he _was_ allowed visitors. The first few months, only the Turks were allowed, and they were meant to be keeping an eye on him. After that, he could have guests over, though there were still limits. He was at least able to sate all the necessary urges and keep from going completely insane stuck by himself inside the villa.

The Turks were, surprisingly, good company. Reno was loud and boisterous - fun to get drunk with - and, once the moratorium on guests was lifted, he never minded hanging around and taking Rufus’ leftovers. Rude was quiet, but enjoyed a game of chess, which kept Rufus’ mind sharp. But Tseng was the best of all of them.

At first, he had been the most difficult. Persistently stoic, refusing to break decorum even though he spent an entire month once every three months living alongside Rufus in the villa. Rufus made it his personal goal to break Tseng down and get him to open up. How the hell was he meant to spend the next several years with these men if he couldn’t befriend them and trust them? After all, even if they were there to spy on him for his father, they would be working for him one day - hopefully soon - and better to have already won them over.

Reno was easy to win over. Rude was a little harder, but not much. Tseng was the toughest nut to crack.

Selfishly, Rufus also enjoyed Tseng’s months in the villa because he was the nicest to look at, though none of them were hard on the eyes.

It was hard for Rufus to get a good read on how Tseng felt about any of it - he was so remarkably composed at all times that it was infuriating. Of course, Rufus had known Tseng a long time, but that had been on a much more strictly professional level. It took a year before he could get Tseng to have a serious conversation with him, but once he broke down that wall, the rest came easily enough. Tseng was good company because he listened, and Rufus had rarely - if ever - had someone in his life who truly listened to what he had to say with no ulterior motive. He wasn’t just being polite either. He would challenge him with questions about his ideas and plans. In turn, Rufus would measure the appropriate times to ask Tseng something personal, and though it took much longer on his part, he slowly began to learn who the man truly was beneath his steely exterior.

Once they got over that hurdle, it was easier for Rufus to read Tseng, and that was when he would catch him stealing glimpses when he thought Rufus wasn’t looking. Or maybe he knew the whole time and _wanted_ to be seen. Either way, Rufus had definitely noticed Tseng’s eyes straying down his chest when he lay on the patio sunbathing. He could never get Tseng to join him, though, always wearing his uniform even in the oppressive heat.

Reno was always eager to join him on the beach and had no qualms with shared nudity, which had led to a few heated sessions of groping, but not much else. Rude would sometimes join Rufus as well and even risk wading into the water, but Reno had been strict with Rufus about one thing, which was that he had better keep his hands off of Rude - so he did. Tseng, however, would never stoop to the same level of casual comfortability as his subordinates.

Rufus’ biggest victory with Tseng came three years into his house arrest on Tseng’s last day with him for that month.

By this point, Rufus could confidently say there was no one he trusted more than the Turks. They had long since been made privy to his plans and ideas for the future and had decided fairly readily which side they fell on. It helped that Rufus had convinced his father to spare their lives so many years earlier - there was a mutual sense of loyalty amongst the four of them that Rufus knew would serve him well when the day came to finally claim his rightful place on the throne in Midgar.

It would have been no stretch at all for Rufus to consider Tseng his best friend. He was his only confidant during house arrest, and they had reached a point - after years of diligent work - where the two of them could sit next to one another in absolute silence with a mutual understanding that nothing needed to be said. He had never really experienced that with anyone before and if he had known what love truly felt like - if it had ever been shown to him by anyone even just once in his life in any form - he might have recognized it for what it was. But he could at least recognize the value of Tseng’s friendship, even if three years had only pushed his interest in Tseng on a physical level to a near breaking point.

For the first time in the seven years Rufus had known Tseng, he took a drink when Rufus offered it to him. It was only a glass of wine, but it still caught Rufus off guard when Tseng answered affirmatively to the question.

Rufus handed Tseng a glass and took a seat next to him on the patio couch, propping his legs up on the coffee table and sipping his own wine while the sunset behind them cast an orange glow over the ocean.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Rufus asked.

Tseng hummed in agreement and Rufus watched him sip his drink. He had let his hair down, which he almost never did in front of Rufus, and his suit jacket was off, his tie loosened just enough to provide a little comfort at his neck. He gazed out at the water with a serene expression and Rufus considered that it was perhaps the first time he had ever seen Tseng truly and completely relaxed.

“It’s too bad you have to leave tomorrow,” Rufus said. “Though I do enjoy Reno’s visits. What sort of assignment has my father got you working on now?”

Tseng took another drink of his wine and closed his eyes. “Let’s not talk about work.”

Rufus rested his arm against the back of the couch, inching as close as he dared to Tseng without touching him, though he desperately wanted to reach out and run his fingers through his hair. Part of what made his attraction to Tseng so unbearable was his complete lack of physicality. Rufus didn’t even think about how often he touched other people except to know he did it so frequently in basic conversation that Tseng had pointed it out to him once. It made Tseng uncomfortable to be touched, so Rufus had made a note to be more cognizant of it around him. It left him mentally counting how many times they had actually touched each other, and the only times he could recall were when Tseng had grabbed his arm to pull him out of danger.

Rufus wanted to touch him more than he had ever wanted anything in that moment.

Tseng let out a slow, contented sigh, his eyes still closed.

“What are you thinking about?” Rufus asked.

“You must be eager for Reno to visit,” Tseng opened one eye long enough to glance sideways at him, then closed it again. “He’ll be more talkative than I am.”

“Sure, but there’s no substance to the conversation with Reno.”

Tseng chuckled. “I suppose that’s a compliment for me.”

“It is. I enjoy your company far better than anyone else’s.”

“Let me know how you feel about it when you’re not under house arrest anymore,” Tseng replied, taking a long drink of his wine and setting it on the end table.

Without thinking, Rufus brushed his hand against Tseng’s head and ran his hands down through his hair. It was exactly as soft and silken as he always imagined it would be. Tseng tensed at the touch and Rufus immediately withdrew his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

Tseng stared directly ahead out at the ocean and said nothing for several seconds. When he finally turned to meet Rufus’ gaze, he spoke. “I think about it more often than I care to admit.”

“Tseng?” Rufus’ allowed his fingers to brush the ends of Tseng’s hair. He had no visible reaction this time.

Tseng let out a long, slow sigh. “It’s bad enough that we’ve become…friends. Your father-”

“Don’t,” Rufus said softly. He curled his fingers more tightly around Tseng’s hair. “It’s just us here. Why can’t we do what we want?” He grabbed Tseng’s chin with his other hand, brushing his thumb against his lip. To his surprise, Tseng closed his eyes and parted his lips.

“Rufus,” he breathed. “Please.”

Please what? Please stop? Please _don’t_ stop?

“Just tell me,” Rufus said.

Tseng’s lips pressed delicately against his thumb and Rufus came completely undone. He hooked his fingers around Tseng’s tie and yanked him forward until the tips of their noses were touching. Other than a slight gasp as the tie pulled on his neck, Tseng gave no reaction. He breathed against Rufus’ face and rested his hand on the back of Rufus’ neck, his fingertips pressing lightly into the skin as though urging Rufus closer.

Rufus brought his lips to Tseng’s as slowly as he could bear and when they touched, it lit a fire in his belly and he knew there would be no stopping things now. Tseng opened his mouth against Rufus’ and their tongues tangled together as Rufus pushed Tseng down onto the couch and climbed on top of him.

It was impossible for Rufus to undress Tseng fast enough. He pulled his tie off, moved his fingers in a line down the buttons on Tseng’s shirt, shoving the fabric away and letting Tseng take care of it while his hands moved to the belt buckle on his pants. Tseng arched his back to help Rufus remove his pants and then they were against each other again, skin on skin, Tseng in only his underwear, Rufus in only his swim trunks.

There was more muscle to Tseng’s lithe body than Rufus was expecting, though he should have known someone in Tseng’s profession would be in such good shape. Even Reno, who was wiry at best, had a decent muscle tone to him. Rufus slid his hand down Tseng’s chest, running his fingers over the taut muscles, moving his hand further down between Tseng’s legs and rubbing against him through the fabric of his underwear. Tseng moaned into his mouth. When they broke away to catch their breath, he spoke.

“This is a bad idea,” he said, placing his palm against Rufus’ chest to distance them.

“No,” Rufus shook his head. “No, fuck the rules, Tseng. Forget about being a Turk for one night.”

“I’m sorry.” Tseng sat up and gathered his clothes from the patio floor. “This is my life, Rufus. I can’t…”

“But we both _want_ this,” Rufus insisted, hand clasping Tseng’s arm. “No one has to know. Why shouldn’t you do what you want, just once?”

“Rufus,” Tseng said more firmly. He tore his arm from his grasp. “I don’t want to risk my career and our friendship over this. Please respect that.”

Rufus sat back against the couch with a sigh. “Of course.” He wouldn’t press the issue any further. Tseng spoke with such finality that there was no point in a further argument - and it would have been selfish on his part, not that he was above being selfish on plenty of occasions. With Tseng, though, he did his best not to let his petulant side win over in any conversation. “I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship either.”

“I’m going to turn in,” said Tseng, carrying his clothes with him to the door. “Good night.”

“Good night.” Rufus watched him go and then turned his gaze out onto the ocean as the sun cast its final rays over the water.

* * *

Rufus had hoped that Tseng would return after a few hours, once he had some time to cool down, but he didn’t. The next morning came and Rufus found Reno, Rude, and Elena seated around the table by the window eating breakfast and talking amongst one another. The conversation came to an abrupt halt when Rufus stopped in front of the table. Reno looked up and swallowed a mouthful of cereal.

“Hey, boss.”

“Please,” Rufus sighed. “You can just call me by my name.”

Reno, Rude, and Elena all looked at each other. “Yeah, we’re probably not gonna do that.”

“Where is the director?” Elena asked.

“I don’t know.” Rufus sat down on the couch. His right leg gave him pain when he stood on it for too long, but he didn’t want it to be obvious. “He left yesterday evening. As I told you, you’re all free to do as you please.”

“We know,” Rude said. “But we want to help you.”

Rufus did not particularly want their help at the moment. He wanted to be left alone. He was still dealing with residual pain from his injuries, trying to accept the fall of his entire life’s work, and emotionally compromised by the conversation with Tseng the night before. And the last thing he wanted was to show weakness in front of the only people still loyal to him for whatever Gods’ damned reason.

“If you would like to help me, then go into town and assist Reeve with the efforts researching the disease.”

The refugees of Midgar were now calling it ‘geostigma’. It was the most immediate impact Rufus felt he could make in a situation where he otherwise felt frustratingly impotent. He was letting Reeve run the show with a new organization and had committed to funding it privately during negotiation talks while the lodge was being readied.

“Did you have something specific in mind or…?” Reno cocked his head.

“I’m sure Reeve needs plenty of help.”

“Shouldn’t one of us stay with you, sir?” Elena asked. “In case-”

Truthfully, yes, he shouldn’t have been left alone. If anyone at all found out that he was still alive and hiding away in a lodge in the mountains, they would have leaked the information to the highest bidder and Rufus would be at the mercy of a number of rightfully angry survivors of his family’s reign. But he wanted nothing more than to be left alone and stew in his own misery.

“I’ll be fine,” he interrupted. “Go whenever you’re done eating. If that’s what you want.”

He struggled back up to his feet and made every effort to hide just how little strength he had. There was a veranda around the back of the building facing the waterfall and he limped out to it, taking a seat on a bench and observing the water as it flowed over the edge of the cliff. Sitting there alone and aching in more ways than one, he felt adrift. Whether he had realized it or not, Tseng’s constant presence - his role as Rufus’ right-hand man since he had taken over as President, and longer still really - had been an anchoring one. He didn’t know what to do without Tseng in his life because he had always been there to fall back on, to vent to, to come to for comfort.

They never discussed the only kiss they ever shared. They never spoke about that day at all and Rufus never made a move again because he valued Tseng’s friendship far too much to ever risk pushing him away.

Had Tseng loved him the entire time? All this time and he said nothing? Damn his foolish sense of professionalism.

The truth was, more than anything, Rufus felt so miserable because he knew what the truth was, whether he had ever stopped to consider it before now or not.

He was in love with Tseng too.


	5. Where You Are

The sun had set by the time Tseng landed the helicopter just north of Kalm. When he left the lodge, he had no real idea of where he would go or what he would do except that if he spent another second in Rufus Shinra’s presence it would drive him to do or say something he regretted. He had already said more than he meant to and the confession that he blurted out in an emotional fit was gnawing at his insides now.

Yes, he loved Rufus. He had loved Rufus for years, but it was an unhealthy love that was slowly tearing him apart from the inside out. He had lived his life for Rufus, sided with him long before he knew for certain he would truly best his father, had done unspeakable things for the Shinra family. It all felt worthless in the aftermath of Meteor.

He should have never said anything, but the pain of Rufus refusing to respond or meet his gaze was too intense to bear. He didn’t want to think about it. Rufus was a horrible malignancy on his heart and he wanted to excise and remove it by any means necessary, but he couldn’t possibly begin to understand how to manage that.

So he left and went to the first place he could think to keep his mind off of things.

The makeshift Shinra headquarters was rapidly being converted into a center of operations for Reeve’s newly founded World Regenesis Organization. The money was coming from Rufus, of course, but the people were far more likely to be accepting of a new name with an anonymous funder than to welcome back Shinra in any manner.

Tseng had not really calmed himself down at all when he entered the building, sweeping past a bewildered secretary to the elevator while she yelled after him that he wasn’t allowed in without a badge.

He was actually comforted somewhat by the fact that she didn’t recognize a Turk. Of course, he had eschewed his suit jacket as of late specifically to avoid being recognized in the characteristic uniform. He probably just looked like an office worker to this woman.

He ignored her and jammed his finger on the ‘door close’ button, watching her startled face disappear as the doors slid shut.

Reeve’s office was on the top floor in the northern corner looking out toward the ruins of Midgar where, already, refugees had begun mining scrap from the city to assist in a rebuilding effort at the edge of sector 3. They had to live somewhere after all, but there was a general consensus that restoring electricity would have to be done through some means other than mako.

Naturally, Rufus had stepped in with plans for wind energy, which Reeve was carrying out at his behest.

If everything else about the situation didn’t pain him so much, Tseng would have admitted he was pleased with the approach Rufus was taking in the aftermath of Shinra’s destruction.

Tseng found Reeve exactly where he knew he would be: seated behind his desk typing away at a computer. His secretary sat at a desk in the corner - the same woman who had worked for him for the last decade at Shinra - and both of them looked in alarm at Tseng’s sudden intrusion.

“Tseng,” Reeve said, leaning back in his chair. “To what do I owe-”

Tseng slumped into the chair in front of his desk and tried to collect his thoughts, but he was still so wound up about what had happened at the lodge - only making things worse with his train of thought the whole flight to Kalm - that he probably looked manic to Reeve.

“Angela, why don’t you go grab yourself a cup of tea from the break room?” Reeve suggested. His secretary nodded and quickly left to give them some privacy.

Reeve folded his hands in front of him on the desk and leaned forward. “Is something wrong, Tseng? I’ve never seen you so…”

So unhinged? Tseng closed his eyes and took a calming breath.

“I apologize,” he said.

“You don’t need to apologize. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends for years. And it’s only been a few months since what happened at the temple. You haven’t given yourself time to recover from any of it.”

Tseng didn’t really imagine he ever would recover from it.

Reeve had been the one to deliver the news of Aerith’s death to him. He had done it in person, which was a kindness Tseng felt he didn’t really deserve. As soon as Reeve left the room, Tseng had allowed himself to cry - no overwrought sobs, no noise of any kind - just silent tears at the reality of the situation. It was the first time he had cried since he joined the Turks.

“Truthfully, Reeve, I’m struggling quite a bit. I can’t-” He paused and considered his words carefully. It was an embarrassment for him to admit emotional attachment to Rufus. No one knew the extent of their relationship - not even the other Turks. Everyone knew they worked closely together, of course, but their friendship was something Tseng had carefully guarded. “I think it may be in my best interest to leave Shinra.”

“Ah.” Reeve nodded knowingly. “You’ve given them fifteen years of your life, Tseng. You shouldn’t feel guilty for calling it quits now. All that’s left is Rufus anyway and he’s just funding things. It’s not as though he really needs you around.”

The statement twisted like a knife at Tseng’s heart. He was acutely aware of how little Rufus Shinra needed him.

“I don’t know what you’re looking for,” Reeve continued. “Personally, I think it would be good for you to take some time for yourself. But if you want something to do with your time, you know you’d be welcome at the WRO. We could use someone with your intelligence experience.”

Spying and killing for a new arm of Shinra was the last thing Tseng wanted to do.

“I’m sorry,” Tseng said, pushing himself up out of the chair. “I’m not sure why I came here.”

He had nowhere to go. Not that he didn’t have money. He could have taken his savings and flown across the sea and bought a house somewhere and lived in isolation, but he liked the idea of running away from everything even less than he liked the idea of staying and dealing with it.

“You’re not imposing,” Reeve offered. “If you want to talk or…”

“No. Thank you, though. I’m sure we’ll chat again soon.”

He led himself out, past Reeve’s secretary who was standing just outside the door holding a cup of tea and clearly trying to eavesdrop. She jumped back and apologized, but Tseng paid her no mind, instead heading back out of the building and wandering into town aimlessly.

What he truly wanted, more than anything, was to stop hurting. His body, his mind, and his heart all hurt so intensely that it made him want to claw the pain out until there was nothing left. In all his agony, he could never seriously considering just ending things, but the thought of ceasing to exist - at least for a while - held immense appeal.

Some indulgences were necessary even in the midst of chaos, and bars and pubs were just such an indulgence. The people had flocked to them when they could provide no help, and if no other business turned a single gil, the bars were still overflowing. Tseng never enjoyed imbibing in alcohol - it muddled his senses and he liked to stay alert - but at that moment, drowning out everything with a few glasses of wine was appealing. His feet carried him into a tiny bar at the eastern edge of the town, not overly busy, where he let himself slump onto a barstool and order a drink.

He just wanted to stop _feeling_ so much for even a second.

One drink turned into two, then three, until he had downed an entire bottle of wine by himself, stewing in his thoughts, always dwelling on Rufus. Rufus Shinra, the one true constant in his life. Why had he said anything? Of course Rufus didn’t love him, because Rufus had always been too wrapped up in his plans for the future.

Maybe it wasn’t entirely fair of Tseng to feel that way. He had bent over backwards every moment alone with Rufus to hide any indication of his true feelings on the matter. How could Rufus have known? And then he had sprung it on him in a moment of foolish vulnerability in the heat of an argument.

The alcohol was not helping him feel better - in fact it made him feel much worse - and now the room was spinning and he had to hold perfectly still with his face against the bar to slow it down.

“Buddy, maybe you should go home,” the bartender suggested.

Where was home?

Nevertheless, Tseng took the advice, stumbling out with an offered bottle of water in his hand, down the stone path leading out of town. He let his drunken legs carry him back to the helicopter in the field to the north and he climbed inside, leaning his back against the front of one of the chairs and sipping the water while he tried and failed to focus his vision.

“All by yourself, huh?”

Tseng jerked his head up to find the source of the familiar voice. He shook his head and closed his eyes. “No…” he whispered softly to himself. “No.”

But when he opened his eyes, Aerith was still there, sitting in the chair across from him with a frown, brow furrowed. She looked around the helicopter with exaggeration. “I don’t see anyone else here.”

“You’re dead,” Tseng said firmly. His already blurred vision was suddenly clouded with tears and he closed his eyes again, willing her to go away.

“Dead. But not gone. What are you doing here, Tseng?”

“Please,” he begged, slumping to the floor and curling in on himself. What was wrong with him? First the attack while he was flying the helicopter and now this? He was losing his mind.

But he could feel her hand against his face, though he refused to open his eyes and look at her again.

“You’re in bad shape.”

He was _angry_ at the tears now staining his cheek.

“Go away,” he whispered. “You’re not real. You died.”

Her hand combed through his hair. She had never touched him in life. He wouldn’t have wanted her to - it was too gross a breach of the already unprofessional relationship he had with her. For better or worse, she had been his life’s work. She was his _friend_. It had been his job to protect her and he wasn’t able to be there in the end when it really mattered. He blamed himself for her death as though he could have prevented it.

“It’s not your fault, Tseng,” she said softly. “It had to happen.”

“How am I supposed to go on like this?” He had never sounded so pathetic. He was ashamed of himself.

“The first step is to accept that it happened. Right?”

How could he ever accept any of this? He had been physically and emotionally ripped wide open and he still felt the dull ache of his injuries with every movement. Aerith was dead, his relationship with the only person left on the planet that he truly cared about was in ruins.

He desperately wanted to die, but he was too scared to do it himself.

“Don’t think like that,” Aerith said softly. “The lifestream isn’t ready for you yet.”

“Aerith,” he gasped.

He opened his eyes and she was gone. He was alone again.

“How…how do I move on?”

* * *

Tseng awoke the following morning with a throbbing headache and only a vague recollection of what had happened the night before. He chalked it up to bad dreams brought on by drinking too much, pulled himself into the pilot’s seat with some difficulty, and made the decision to return to the lodge.

He would not live the rest of his life beholden to Rufus, but he recognized that he at least owed him a more thorough conversation than they had the day before. It wasn’t fair of him to leave after unloading on him like that. And he had spent too much of the last few months projecting his own pain onto Rufus and then blaming him for it.

Rufus could often be frustratingly stubborn, but Tseng knew he could return it in kind - it was disingenuous to pretend he held no fault in the divide that had been created in their relationship.

It was arguably not the best time for Tseng to have the conversation. He felt like absolute shit - his stomach was sour from all the wine he’d had coupled with a lack of food, his head hurt, and his entire body ached. Still, he didn’t want to delay it any longer, as much as he knew it would hurt.

He landed the helicopter in the field just south of the lodge and made his way in to find Rufus seated alone on the couch reading a book. Tseng’s eyes scanned the room - as they always instinctively did - for signs of any clear threat, but there were none. He did note, however, a bottle of painkillers on the end table and the way Rufus winced as he pushed himself up at Tseng’s sudden arrival.

For a moment, the two of them stared at one another and neither of them said anything.

“I wasn’t sure if you were coming back,” Rufus spoke first.

“Neither was I,” Tseng replied.

“You look ill.”

Tseng sighed. It was a quintessentially Rufus response.

“I had too much to drink last night.”

Rufus frowned. “When’s the last time you drank, period?”

“When I had a glass of wine with you at the villa.” It was the first time either of them had acknowledged that evening at all in the last three years.

“Tseng,” Rufus sighed, “you have to talk to me. I can’t read your mind and I don’t have your incredible attention to detail. Forgive me, but I don’t know how I was supposed to know how you felt when you never gave any inclination whatsoever that that was the case. I did what you asked all those years ago. Why didn’t you just…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “How many times have we been alone discussing deeply private things in all that time? You could have said something.”

“To what end?” Tseng asked. “I felt foolish enough to even have those feelings. We both know logically, it couldn’t have gone anywhere.”

“Why not?” Rufus demanded, sitting up straighter. “I was the President. I made the rules. Why did it fucking matter?”

“Rufus!” Tseng could feel the heat rising in his neck. “Do you really think anything could have happened? You became President and immediately we were in a crisis with Sephiroth. It was hardly the time for me to profess my love for you. I only said it yesterday because I was just-” he clenched and unclenched his fists. “I’m at my wit’s end.”

“It was unfair of you to unload on me like that and then just leave before I could even recover to respond,” Rufus said. “I know you’re hurting, Tseng, but how am I supposed to help if you won’t fucking tell me anything? Nothing has _ever_ hurt me worse than to hear you say you think I don’t care for you.”

Tseng’s heart felt like it was in a vice. He stared at Rufus and said nothing.

“And I think it’s pretty rich that after all this time you would think I don’t. Of course I care about you. You’re the only person on this planet I truly care about. I don’t know what to do with you anymore.” Rufus pinched the bridge of his nose. “You took care of me the last two months, but you’ve been so cold otherwise. I want to be there for you and you won’t let me. And then you turn around and act like I’m the one who’s being selfish. Shiva’s tits, Tseng!”

“Rufus…” Tseng sighed.

“Can’t you see that I love you too?” Rufus fixed him with a furious stare that he felt to his very core. “If you weren’t so wrapped up in your own pain you would know. And you would know that I’m hurting too. I feel like I’m losing you and I just… _fuck_. I don’t know what to do without you by my side, Tseng. Please just fucking say something.”

“I’m sorry,” Tseng breathed. “I know I’ve been unfair.”

He crossed the room in a few strides and Rufus sat up and met him, pulling him on top of him as their lips met in a greedy kiss that left him breathless when he pulled away. They stared at one another and it was as though Rufus was staring straight into his soul. It left him feeling like he had been split wide open again. They kissed again, Rufus opening his mouth to Tseng’s, tongues swirling together, the culmination of three years of longing held at bay.

Without thinking about it, Tseng’s hands were at Rufus’ shirt, struggling to undo the buttons. Rufus placed a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder to stop him and they broke apart from one another, leaving only enough space to breathe, Tseng’s nose brushing lightly against the side of Rufus’.

“Tseng. I want this more than you could possibly know, but we still need to talk.”

There would be time for talking later, wouldn’t there? He knew Rufus was right, but with every immediate danger gone from their lives, time stretched out endlessly ahead of them. Couldn’t they finish the conversation after? Couldn’t they work some of this frustration out through physical means?

“Please,” Tseng kissed him again and clutched some of his hair in his hands. “I just want to feel something that isn’t pain.”

“Oh, Tseng,” Rufus sighed and grabbed his neck, pulling him down and cradling his head against his chest. “That isn’t the solution. Not like this.”

Tseng had never felt so raw or vulnerable in his life. He let Rufus hold him against his chest, closing his eyes and savoring the heat of his body and the gentle comfort of his fingers combing through his hair. He could feel Rufus’ heart beating behind his ribs: a calming, steady rhythm that soothed his nerves.

“I wish you had said something sooner,” Rufus whispered. “You know that I would have listened. I can’t help you through something if you don’t talk about it.”

“I know,” Tseng said. “I was just angry…about everything. I didn’t even know what to say. I took it out on you because you were the only one to take it out on.” He sat up, bracing himself on his elbows on either side of Rufus’ head, letting his hair drape down across his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Rufus cupped Tseng’s face in his hand. “I didn’t ask. I didn’t thank you for what you did for me. I’ve never felt so weak and I couldn’t bare to admit it. I asked you to stay because I need you. I thought you understood - it wasn’t for Shinra. It was for me. I love you, Tseng.”

The way it felt to hear those words from his mouth was indescribable for Tseng. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Rufus’. Rufus gripped the back of his neck, caressing it gently, and they held themselves like that for what may as well have been hours.

It would take time for both of them to fully heal, to work through everything completely, but in that moment, for the first time since the temple, Tseng felt a sense of calm wash over him. Some of the pain ebbed away and he could breathe again.

Whatever came next, he would not be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title gets its name from a song by Ted Lucas called Baby Where You Are which is my number 1 Tsengru song. It's very beautiful and its tone really encompasses the feeling of this chapter I think. Anyway this fic was rough to write, but I enjoyed exploring this aspect of their relationship post-game and it had a happy ending right? Thanks so much for reading!


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